


STEAM

by thenoodlesaresalty



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Breaking Up & Making Up, Christianity, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Historical, LGBTQ Character, Near Death Experiences, Original Character(s), Religion, Revolution, Revolutionary War, Steampunk, Victorian, Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenoodlesaresalty/pseuds/thenoodlesaresalty
Summary: Beyond the clouds of steam, lies a marvelous city of copper and innovation. But beneath that glimmering future, lies a deadly secret genocide of a group of people.





	1. 'Tis Better to Bear the Ills

  1. December 1903, 9:12 am



“Attention all passengers. Today is the 17th of December. We shall arrive in approximately thirty minutes, thank you,” yells a small woman in the front of the rows of seats, constantly bobbing up and down. She hops back to the front of the train car, tripping over her long skirt.

Masses and masses of trees pass by me. The sun stays hidden behind clouds, its warmth almost never felt by those on its Earth. I look up and see the beautiful accessories of the train car’s interior; mirror-like panels that reflect all the dull and gray of the people in this car, which greatly contrasts the lush design. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and illuminate the area below them. I move in my seat, its wooden frame causing my behind great discomfort, and the tight crowding causing a bit of anxiety within me. I swallow nervously, my mouth incredibly dry, not helping me in the slightest. Looking behind me, I can hear conversations all around, some ending quickly, and some that seem to go on forever. Someone’s getting married up in the city, another woman is meeting her parents there, a mother and son are going to see the World’s Fair, and someone else is applying for a job.

It all just blends together into a collective mess of words and, maybe, a few numbers at this point. I grip my pencil a bit tighter, its sharp point nearly tearing the paper into uneven pieces. Writing down a few notes about the ride, I sigh and fix my glasses, which were falling off the bridge of my nose. I peer out the window of my seat, a station is approaching and fast, and I could not pack up my bags in time. The train comes to a complete stop, pushing me out of my seat. 

The man who took the seat next to me chuckles under his breath. “You alright there, lad?” He asks in a raspy, old voice.

I rise up, my hands moving before my mind could see them to pick up my fallen papers. Fixing the position of my glasses, I grab my suitcase and stand up. “Y-yes, I’m q-quite well,” I try to squeeze through his legs, “Um, s-sir. If you c-could… if you could just move your legs, um, I’d be grateful,” my stuttering becomes horribly apparent, and I grasp the back of my neck.

He looks down to his legs crushing my own and with an eye roll and a few grumbles, he stands as well. “There, your majesty,” He chuckles about his joke. I huff at the remark, turning my back and walking out to the door. 

The small woman stands at the entrance, her smile wide and her hands waving to the passengers. “I hope you all enjoyed your ride. And welcome to The City of Steam!” I smile back and stride my way out, the pale sunlight streaming from the sun blinding my poor eyes. 

The station is full of people, and all kinds too. Tall, small, big, thin, adult, child, it is a mixing pot of cultures. Never been far from my home country, but I somewhat regret not leaving any sooner. A small group of rowdy boys run past me, knocking the suitcase from my hand. Watching them run away, I could see all the mischief they’re causing: Stealing baggage, pushing kids over, yelling and screaming about unrecognizable terms, etc. Their clothes are torn, two of them aren’t even wearing shoes, and the horrendous haircuts; small patches of hair are completely missing! And who is their mother? More importantly,  **where** is their mother?  _ Mothers _ ? I peer over my shoulder to find a distraught woman dragging her legs, a lit cigarette in her hand and a small bag in the other. 

“You damn, rotten kids! Get over here!” She practically screams as she adjusts her large, flowy hat. “Damn children.” She mutters under her breath. Picking up my suitcase, I brush off the dirt on its shiny exterior.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” She turns her head, flinging her black curls right in front of her… strangely shiny face. She has the most discourteous face I have ever seen; eyes bags incredibly prominent, her eyes a very dull blue, and her skin a sickly color, as if she is dying right in front of me. 

“The hell do you want, kid? Can’t you see I’m busy here?” She points to the running children with her cigarette hand. 

“Oh no, ma’am, I can see you’re  _ very _ busy.” She cocks her eyebrow and crinkles her sharp nose. “I just need directions to the Council building, do you know where it is?” I inquire, standing up, my legs shaking horribly and my voice cracking.

She inhales a cloud of smoke, and breathes it back out, pushing her hair from her face. “How would I know, kid? I live in the goddamn slums,” She shoves passed me, “Go find some prissy businessman or some whore, they’d probably know.” She picks up the ends of her red skirt and runs towards the small group of boys, yelling and swearing without a care in the world. What a warm welcome. I notice a small line forming by the front of the station, and my curiosity overtaking my body, I walk over.

People are shouting and demanding something, but what exactly? 

“Do not worry, everyone! The train had to make a few emergency stops! The schedule will be back to normal by at least noon!”

I hear a man shout above the others, his face incredibly red. “Noon?! I need to get back to Lyon by two! My boss will fire me!”

A woman holding a baby also yells with her child in one arm and the other waving from side to side. “I have to check up on my parents back in Munich! They need me!”

A younger boy pushes through the crowd, a broken bottle in his hand. He points it close to the control supervisor’s neck, his eyes wide and his body frozen. “If you can’t get that train here by ten, all you’ll see is glass!” Everyone around him shouts with agreement and joy; such a sight to see. Soon, five men in uniform come running up, taking anyone nearby with them to the police wagons, and some resist their arrest. I back up, just far enough away to not be associated, but just close enough to hear and see what is happening. One of the officers marches up to me. 

“Excuse me, sir, did you happen to see what happened here?”

“Yes, yes, sir… I did… see.” I shrink down a bit, balancing out his tall stature. 

He mumbles to himself. “But you were not associated?”

“No, uh, no, sir. I just wanted to see what was happening.” I scratch under my chin and shift my eyes from one side to the other. “I thought t-their actions were f-far too… too extreme.” He nods and walks off, his arms gracefully put behind his back. I sigh, my chest puffing out great and my cheeks flushing. I glide my hands over my hair, pushing down the rebellious strands of orange. The excitement and bustle of this morning made me completely forget my goal. I run to the gate labeled “Northern Gate,” losing my breath every five or so seconds. 

The gate seems to be made from pure silver and copper, or just painted metal, who is truly the judge? People walk in and out from the gate, those walking in have bright smiles, while those leaving seem so defeated and upset. Hopefully, I will stay joyful throughout my little visit. Soon, I’ll go home and live peacefully… maybe.


	2. Words Without Thoughts Never to Heaven Go

  1. December 1903, 9:35 am



I stand in complete awe, my legs refusing to move from their spot. I stare at the tall, beautiful buildings, their structure that of a fictional book. I squint to see a few people walking on catwalks in the air. How  _ fascinating _ ! Cars honk at each other as they speed down the street. I take in their sleek, black designs; a design that screams elegance and wealth to those not fortunate enough to own one. And if the cars were considered elegant, then what would that make the people? Quite possibly the most glamorous clothing I have ever seen in my entire life. The men wear neat tuxes with fancy neck and bowties, their hair perfectly combed from the front of their faces, and their shoes polished to a blinding sheen. And following suit are their, supposed, wives. The women have big flowy hats, similar to the woman from the station, and long colorful dresses, with some of the most intricate designs I’ve ever laid my eyes on. My trance soon ends with a thump onto the ground. 

“Oof!” I exclaim, hitting the ground hard. I look up and spot a distraught man. “O-oh! I’m so sorry, sir! Here-” I attempt to help him up, but he stops me before laughing. 

“It’s all well, my boy,” He brushes off his clean, deep red suit. Fixing his brown hair, he holds out his hand. “Name’s Charles Berry.” I hesitate to shake his hand. His accent is thick and the typical American south. “Ah, dontcha worry, I don’t bite!” We shake hands and he opens up his golden pocket watch. “It was nice to meet ya, but I should be going.”

Right as he is leaving, I remember why I’m here. “W-wait! Do you know where the-” And just like that, he’s lost in the crowd. “Damn.” I stand there, tilting my head and shrugging. What a character, which must be typical in this city. I peer down to the sidewalk: Perfectly smooth rocks all placed in a specific order. People shove and walk past me; eyes narrowing and curling lips are standard I assume. A few children run by me, going right under my arms. They’re wearing very proper clothing, almost as if there’s a ball somewhere in town. The boy with a blue vest, and knee-high white socks with shiny, black shoes runs before turning around and chasing the girl. His hair is probably supposed to be rather neat, but it is a complete mess. Two young girls race to catch up to him, their poofy dresses not slowing them down, and their clear, crystal-like shoes causing them to trip with each sprint. Very quickly, a man runs up and scoops all three into his arms, a wide grin on his seemingly perfect face. And his wife soon joins them as well in their fun, all five laughing loudly. Smiling quietly, I turn back around, fixing my hair yet again.

I ask anyone around for directions; seems as though no one cares enough to listen to my need for help. I stop anyone who looks trustworthy: Fancy women, men with briefcases, and a few of those “whores” the tired mother from the station referred to. None of which seemed to know where my destination was. 

“Wish I could help ya, honey. None of us here really care about the Council enough to know where they hide out. Now if you want a good time-” She takes my shirt’s collar into her hand.

I push her off, my expression sour. “No thank you, ma’am. I must be going.” I turn back around from the street corner. Shuddering, I round the corner and back out to the city.

I stare up at the sky; the clouds are bleak and gray with a hint of snow coming. I shiver a bit and roll down my sleeves over my wrists. Snowflakes fall gracefully down from the heavens and lay peacefully on the pavement.  _ Great _ . I rush through the crowds, covering myself with the incredibly thin jacket I had bought only a week ago for the trip. The cobblestone becomes my greatest enemy; I 

Inside it appears to be a small café, full of people from all walks of life. I walk further inside, my eyes full of vibrancy and excitement. Tables are in very neat and meticulous lines in the middle of the room, and what appears to be lace tablecloths on top, as well as a candle burning carefully. The windows have beautiful drapery; red velvet curtains with detailed designs in gold hang and cover the glass windows, and behind them are windows decorated in glass murals of some kind. Perhaps they detail a story of the past? A story of the present, or the future? I walk a little closer to see the designs; their beauty glimmering in the faint sunlight, and their colors shining like the stars at night. When I turn my head and look up, I see more beauty and pristine works of art. Paintings hung up behind the counter: Some of studies of the human anatomy, some of simply fruits, and some of animals. Oh and that ceiling, made of stained glass that shines on down on the people proper enough to eat here. And all that beauty soon fades as someone shoves past me. 

A worker walks up to me. “Good morning, sir. What can I get you for today?” She asks with a smile. I adjust my glasses, for what I’m seeing surely cannot be real? She looks human, perhaps. Tan skin that shines greatly in the light, which isn’t exactly normal for humans. Her eyes seem… artificial; as if they were simply replacing her regular eyes. “Sir?”

I snap out of it. “Oh, yes, sorry,” I grab a seat, but do not sit yet, “I’ll just have a coffee.”

“Just a plain coffee, sir?”

“If I could have some milk in it, that’d be nice.” She nods and writes it down on a piece of paper. 

“Any food?”

I think for a bit and look at the menu in the back. “A bacon and egg, please, ma’am.”

She writes again and I can hear her quiet mumbles. “Glad to have some respect.” And with that, she leaves to the back counter. I sit down and cross my legs and I get a good look at them. Guess I need more muscle, or else I’ll just be blown away in the wind. I turn my head to take a quick peek outside, wondering if the snow picked up… it did. I can barely see the buildings outside with all this snow; the only objects shining were the lampposts on the street corners, and even then they were only so bright, their faint candles slowly running out of fuel. I look out at the snow through the different colors of the stained glass, each a different color and turning the snow into whatever color I peer into. Red, blue, yellow, the possibilities of color are endless. The server places my food and coffee on the small table in front of me. 

“Here you go, sir.”

I nod my head. “Thank you, miss.” She walks off with a smile and hop in her step. Cutting my small sandwich in half with a knife, my mouth begins to water. I take a bite of my egg and bacon sandwich, to which the flavor explodes in my mouth. The train didn’t have very good food unless you count day old bread food or old cheese, neither of which were good in any way. It feels like I haven’t eaten in years, but this is the only meal I’ve been allowed to eat. I put down the rest on the plate and open my notepad, its pages blank except for a few vague notes. I stare back outside and doodle what I see; snow and the shadows laying on top. I take off my glasses and put them on the table as well, making sure I don’t even mess with the lace tablecloth. With my other hand, I reach for my coffee and take a sip, but its heat surprised me and I nearly drop it. That’s one way to wake me up in the late morning. I put the coffee cup down and see some people staring and whispering to their friends. Cute, as if I cannot hear them. I roll my eyes and continue my doodles, becoming more and more abstract as the seconds go by. I pick up my sandwich again and look back outside. I place my arms on the table and keep drawing up until the waitress comes around with a small piece of paper. 

“Good morning, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal.”

I smile up at her. “I did, thank you!”

“Two pence is your total.” I reach into my pockets in my trousers and pull out two pounds and place them into her hand. She smiles lightly. “Thank you, sir,” I begin to stand up and she shakes my hand out of nowhere. “Have a wonderful day.”

I nod her way. “You too, miss.” I grab my suitcase and push the door open, snow flying right in my face, but I trudge on.


	3. I Had Rather Have a Fool

  1. December 1903, 10:00 am



I walk slowly and my legs drag behind me. I’ve tried everywhere and everyone; businessmen, shop owners, children, and then their angry mothers. If no one in this city knows where the people in charge are, how trustworthy can they be? I shake off the thought and keep walking, the snow slowly fading away from the air. I roll my sleeves back up to prepare for the change in temperature. The people around seem to look incredibly fashionable; with alluring scarves and furry jackets made from all kinds of animal hides. I turn my head to see children in large coats playing in the snow; making snow angels, building snowmen, throwing snowballs; typical fun to have out in the snow. I smile with a warm feeling in my chest and continue to stride onward through the bustling mass of people. 

As I walk down the sidewalk, I hear the yells of excitement and joy from my left, and I turn slowly to prepare myself for something horrible. But to my utter surprise, I see a stage with a mass of people gathering into a crowd. I spot a sign set up right in front of me. It says in colorful words: “THE GREAT MERI!” And a picture of an older man holding a deck of cards, which are in the shape of a flame. A magician? I love magic! Reminds me of… I brush off the thought as I run towards the crowd.

An empty stage greets me, as well as the tops of others’ heads, but thankfully I’m just tall enough to see clearly. “Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Introducing the magical master himself!” Then a cloud of purple smoke bombs the stage, and there he stands. His posture is very straight and both his arms are behind his back. He wears a dark purple suit, with a hat that springs out gears and different pieces of metal on metallic springs. “Meri the Great!” His gray beard almost appears like a bush. He’s clearly old, with wrinkles all over his face, but it’s not like it’s bad, just odd with all the perfect youth in the city. He begins his act with the card trick from the sign. Cards fly out from his sleeve and they fly to stay stationary between his hands, and then form the flame shape from the sign again. He then proceeds to raise his arms to reveal hundreds of doves sitting on them, which then begin to fly up and around in loops and twirls. I cannot help but smile like a small child first seeing color, and my eyes twinkle with the desire to be like him. He then looks as though he’s pondering.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen! Normally I don’t take volunteers, but I spot someone in this audience who would be perfect in this act! Now, who shall it be?” He hovers his gloved finger over the audience but points to me. I point to myself, cocking my eyebrow, but a large smile on my face. He nods and invites me up to the stage. I walk happily on, feeling the jealous stares of the other audience members. “Well ‘ello there, mister! Now, what’s your name?”

I swallow hard. “A-ambrose Claxton, sir.”

“Ah! Fantastic!” He slams a large hat onto my head. “Now stand completely still!” I adjust the hat a bit to see the audience’s faces in total awe. “With the touch of magic and a twirl of my hand, I say this man shall,” And I feel a trapdoor on the floor of the stage open up, and I fall quickly. “Disappear!” I land on the cold ground under the stage, but at least the snow broke my fall. I hear muffled speaking from above the stage. “Let us have Ambrose back shall we?” The muffled voice exclaims again. I am then pulled back up through some strange contraption and out the hat, I come. “And here he is!” I am frozen and stare with wide eyes at the crowd. They yell with absolute joy and start waving their arms, crying out for them to have their turns next. He shakes his head as he puts me down. “Sorry, folks, but I have some business to attend to! I bid you all  _ adieu _ !” He starts to leave for his car, which I may add is full of props and such. I snatch my suitcase and jolt towards the leaving car. Its exhaust fumes gathering up in my face, almost suffocating me. I try to follow its path down the road and around corners.

I turn the corner sharply, dropping a few papers in the process. I might’ve stepped in the wrong neighborhood, for everything but one house is in complete ruin. Dying weeds grow from cracks in the poor buildings and a small family of those human-like species lie next to the stairs of a run-down building. For such a beautiful city, you’d expect nicer neighborhoods, but it’s almost a mask for ignorant visitors such as myself. I notice Meri’s car parked near a rather… vibrant building in the middle of the cluster of broken structures. The bright purple paint seems to be fading and chipping away with every gust of wind. I knock on the door, hoping I don’t cause the building to crumble under itself. And before I can perfectly process my situation, someone or something pulls me in.

It’s dark, almost like a cave. Meri appears in front of me with a glass tube full of… interesting substances, shaking it around. “Well, ‘ello there, Ambrose! Curious seeing someone like you in this part of town! Fancy trying this vial of lead arsenate?” I shake my head, smiling awkwardly. “No? Fair enough.” Tossing the vial onto a blanket covered table, he fixes his gloves, looking up. 

“Meri, is it?” He nods, looking over the various chemicals lying around. He begins to swirl one, which turns into a bright blue. “I was… w-wondering if you had some information.”

He ruffles around in his rowdy hair and pulls out a pencil, beginning to write a few things onto a piece of aged paper. “And I may have it. Ask away!”

“Well, I needed to know where- where the… um. The-”

“Ah, ah, ah! I know what you need!”

“You do?”

He nods and rummages around under the table, handing me a small mechanical bird. “Her name’s Abbie.” I give him a crooked smile and place the bird on the table next to me. “A beauty isn’t she?”

“She is lovely, but that’s not what I need.”

He frowns and crosses his arms. “Hm,” He strokes his beard. “Oh, of course, of course! Silly me!” He reaches into his pocket and brings out a fist. He places the fist into my palm and opens it; a golden pocket watch falls out of his hand. 

“A watch?”

“It was a gift I received when I was younger,” He takes off his hat and sets it on the table as well. “The man who gave it to me told me this: ‘The sun will shine on your one true desire. Do not ignore His signs.” He smiles large. “I know why you need me, Ambrose.” He beckons me up a large spiral staircase. I follow and admire the various clockwork and mechanics hanging on the walls and ceiling. A wooden whale swims in the air, steam rushing out from its joints. Chuckling, I look to a life-sized heart that seems to be made from silicon, and when I tap it, it begins to contract. I jump back and hit the wall, knocking over a clock. Panicking, I try placing it back onto the wall, but it falls off. So I end up placing it in the small hole in the wall.

Meri pushes open the door, and lights a candle, illuminating the office. Machines decorate the entire space, all moving as if they’re all alive. Many blow up steam and begin making noise as Meri walks through. I stand frozen, admiring the way the sun hits the copper machines just right, and my mouth agape. Standing right beside me all of a sudden, Meri coughs. “Fascinating, isn’t it?” My eyes wander down and notice his left eye, completely blank, with a massive scar around it. 

I quickly move my eyes back, I look to the large desk near a window, an invention sketch sitting on the top. “You’re an inventor?”

“I prefer the term,” He taps the side of his chin, spinning his hand around and posing it like an aristocrat would. “Engineer. Sounds mighty smart, doesn’t it?”

“I-I thought you were a magician?”

“Ah, my boy, a magician just truly does not exist. My magic lives through the art of machinery!” He steps back and extends his arms out, a bunch of springs and cogs pop out from the top of his hat. Swiping his hat off from his head, he picks up the various machinery and stuffs them back into the hat. I run my hands over the copper surface of the one miniature bear statue. “I take it you like my inventions?”

I perk up, rubbing my hands together. “My f-f-father was an inventor…” I shake my head, fixing my glasses. “And I-I assume that his love for machines passed down to, um, myself.” He closes his eyes and adjust his bowtie. “Can I,” I clear my throat. “see more of your w-work?”

“Of course! It’s been  _ far _ too long since little, old Meri has had a visitor!” He slings his arm around my shoulders, showing me the various rolled up plans he has stored in a broken down wardrobe. 

Time soars as we look through the plans, and I try to contain my excitement as he explains the intricacy of his work. Suddenly, a dozen cuckoo clocks go off. Meri groans, turning each and every one off. “Blasted clocks. Had these ones imported from Germany, you know. I guess the Germans don’t like being asleep until eleven thirty.” I jump up and rush towards the stairs. 

“Eleven thirty?” I ask, adjusting my glasses and running my fingers through my hair. “I’m late, o-oh no! Meri I-”

He holds his hand up, pointing to the large circular window. We both walk over, and I push my sleeves up. He stands with his arms behind his back, and he brings me down to his level. “See that large building? The brick one?” I nod. “That-” He turns to me and smiles again, “-is the Council building.” My face immediately lights up and I hug him. 

“O-oh! Thank you!” I run to the door and snatch my suitcase from the wall. “Thank you, thank you!” And sprinting down the street, I smile wide. Meri calls out, “Good luck, Ambrose!” None of the crowds of people will stop me! I am unstoppable!


	4. Listen to Many, Speak to a Few

  1. December 1903, 12:04



I can barely keep my eyelids from closing and my legs drag behind me. I sneeze and start coughing, causing me to feel weaker than before. The snow seems to just come and go whenever it wants, huh? I squint hard at what is in front of me; is it a boat? Car? But a lift. I hop on with no hesitation, for the building should be warm enough for this cold to bugger off! I try to smoothen out my shirt’s many wrinkles and make sure my hair looks like the hills of England. I sigh heavily before the lift begins to speak, and it decides to yell from its speakers. 

“WELCOME, AMBROSE CLAXTON, TO THE COUNCIL!” It bellows for the whole world to hear. I stare down to see people looking up at me and the building, perhaps they’re jealous? Upset? Relieved? Who knows. I start fiddling with my hands until the lift reaches the top, to which several people are gathering. A tall woman helps me out of the car and into the room, which is very warm and refreshing. There stands some rather… interesting looking people all standing with grins. “Welcome, Ambrose,” The tall woman opens up her arms as she backs up, “To the Council.” Her wrinkles move up with her smile.

I fix my hair yet again. “I-it’s a pleasure to, to be h-here! I’m so, so g-glad you accepted my a-application!” 

She laughs quietly. “We just had to! It was absolutely perfect, and you’ll fit  **right** in with us.” She turns to face a bigger man standing in the back. “Would you introduce yourself?”

“Certainly, Lenore.” He walks towards me, reaching out his large hand. I shake it and grip it tightly. “ _ Grüß dich _ , I am General Abraham Engels. I lead our glorious army to victory when needed and coordinate the many quadrants of our police force. I hope you see how  _ fantastisch _ our Council truly is.” He walks off to a lift and he descends on down. Hm,  _ quite the charmer he is _ .

A younger looking woman steps forward, her head low and eyes forward, almost like a puppet. Her voice sounds like the speaker from the lift. “Greetings, Claxton. I am Captain Mary-Frances Kaylock, second in command of the City of Steam army and leader of the five-hundred and twelfth Quadrant.” And she’s done. She walks off to the side of the room, not moving her head in the slightest as if she were one of the many statues that surround us.

The tall woman stands straight with her arms behind her back. “And you know who I am,  _ hopefully _ . Lenore Mather, Head of the Council.” She motions towards the man from way earlier with her gloved hand. “Oh, Charles! Could you bring Mr. Claxton to his room?” Charles walks up and swings his arm around my shoulders, walking us both to a corridor. 

“Why this is a surprise, ain’t it, kid- sorry,  _ Ambrose _ .” He stares at my face for a few seconds, then chuckles. “I’ll just call ya, Rose.”

“Isn’t t-that a bit, a bit too m-much like a girl?”

“No, Rose. It’s perfect for a boy your age… how old  _ are  _ you?”

I frown. “T-twenty-three, Mr. B-Berry.”

He pulls out a cigar from the pocket of his suit and lights it. “What’s with all this stuttering, Rose?”

“S-sorry! I g-get, get nervous a lot… a lot.” He makes a sound with his mouth and exhales a cloud of smoke. “W-what d-does the C-council… do exactly?” 

“Well-” He inhales again. “-We make sure this city doesn’t just crumble and fall into the North Sea.” He exhales the smoke from the cigar. “But can’t exactly do that with those Coppers running around causing trouble.”

“C-coppers?”

“Ok seriously, we need to do something about your stuttering. And yeah, Coppers. They’re these kinds of… well, people, I guess… who were around since the city was founded back in 1783. They were good in the beginning; listening to authority, paying taxes, you know? But then recently they’ve been demanding ridiculous things.”

“L-like what?”

“Like better neighborhoods and schools where humans and Coppers learn together,” He makes a fake gag sound. “Disgusts me.” We approach a door at the end of the hallway, which I should add is beautiful like everything in this city. “Here’s your room, Rose, and here-” He drops a key into my hands, “-is your key. Enjoy yourself; you’ll be needed tomorrow at 11:00 am sharp.” He strides back to the front of the hallway and disappears. I look at the key in my hand, its golden and gorgeous design makes me not want to use it on the door, but I put it in and twist it, leading to the door to open slightly. Pushing it open more, I peer inside, its dark interior holding me back. I step in and search for a light switch on the wall nearby. Feeling the wall, I feel a slight bump and I push down, illuminating the room up. I close the door and begin to unpack my suitcase.

When I finish, I sigh and fall on the bed. My legs release all the pain they’ve been storing and they become incredibly weak, but I don’t care, for I need my rest for tomorrow. I throw the blanket over top of me and place my glasses on the nightstand near.

I open my eyes to see complete darkness. Did I fall asleep? How long was I gone? I look for something to tell time and spot the pocket watch from Meri sitting peacefully on the nightstand. I gently grab it and open up the front; 2: 15 am. Oh for Heaven’s sake! I lay back down and pull the wool blanket back over me, shutting my eyes tight, but to no avail; Sleep has escaped me this time. I hear a quiet knock on my bedroom door and then quiet footsteps leaving. I see a piece of paper on the floor near the door. I slowly rise up from my bed and pick up the note, it says: 

“Greetings, Ambrose,

Welcome to the Council. I feel as though I did not have a proper introduction and would like to talk with you. Meet me in the Laboratory on level 1.

  * B~”



I stare at the note, my eyebrow furrows, but I smile. Maybe this “B” fellow is nice? I button up my shirt and open the door as quietly as I can as I step outside. I sneak down the hall and crank the motor backward and the gate closes. I so do wish this would be quieter; I don’t need drama on my first official day. 

I exit the lift car and the darkness greets me upon my arrival. The laboratory is very large, with tables and tables of scientific equipment; beakers, cages probably full of animals, papers all spread out. I notice one of the tables has an active experiment sitting on top. I tiptoe over to the table in the back and try to grab a test tube. A note sits patiently on the top, and picking it up carefully, I read it:

“Have fun! 

  * B~”



Hm, how hard could it be? I grab another test tube and pour the first one into it and shake it up. The color turns from blue to purple in an instant, but then it begins to bubble over. It slightly touches my finger and I feel the burn, and quickly trying to clean up the spill I’ve caused, I begin to panic. I pour another tube into it, making it worse. The horrible mess I made becomes worse and worse as I continue. Chemicals spill all over the floor and I feel a tight pain in my chest. It shocks me so badly that I drop the tube full of poorly mixed chemicals. I spot a mop in a corner and I snatch it, immediately trying to clean up my mess. And with all the chaos over, I sigh and collapse, my back leaning on a table’s leg. I slowly arise, however, and open back the note from my bedroom. Where is he? She?

I feel a cold hand gently grab my shoulder, and I jump. A quiet voice peeps from the darkness. “Well, hello there.” The voice greets. I turn around, my eyes full of absolute terror, but I calm down when I see who it is. A rather tall man stands in front of me, his hands in his pockets and his smile gentle. “Sorry for startling you; I did not mean to. I am rather quiet and tend to not make noise, like a rat.” He chuckles quietly at his own joke. He takes one of his hands out from his pocket and reaches it out. “I am Bayani Calag.”

I shake his hand with care. “Huh.” He tilts his head. “S-strange name for, for a white m-man.”

He chuckles to himself. “No, no. I am not a white man; I’m from the Philippines.” My eyes widen.

“O-oh! I’m s-so s-sorry! I, uh, d-didn’t know-”

“It is fine, Ambrose. If you want, you can call me Arthur.”

“I-I think I’m fine with Bayani.”

He walks over to a cage with the animals and carefully pulls out a small rat. He looks to me and motions me over. He shows off a small rat in his arms, “Meet Alon, he’s one of my test rats.” Alon is very small, with white fur and red eyes. I reach my hand out slowly and pet the top of his head. He smiles a… ratty smile. “Looks like he already likes you, Rose.” I feel my face redden a bit from the comment, and he notices. “Oh, sorry. I heard Charles call you that earlier. Do you not like it?”

“N-no, I l-like it!” He smiles small and places Alon back in his cage after kissing his forehead. I look around at all the beakers in the room.

“A-are you a c-chemist?”

He nods. “A biochemist. I work on medicine for the people in the city.” He wipes his hands off on his trousers. “I used to make medicine back home for all the sick and wounded. It was a horrific sight to see there.”

I fidget with my hands. “D-do you ever m-miss it?”

“Sometimes. I know I am helping those below… wish the Council would let me help the Coppers.”

“T-they w-won’t let you?”

He shakes his head. “It is not that important.” He smiles at me and my cheeks flush. “You know, I was not expecting you to come.” 

“R-really?”

“Well it  _ is  _ rather early in the morning and I assumed you were asleep.”

“W-why aren’t  _ you _ ?”

He shrugs and fixes his tinted glasses. “I like staying up late. It helps me focus more.” He carefully takes my glasses off my nose and swaps them with his. 

“Oh Lord in Heaven.” His eyesight is awful, which is  _ really _ saying something. “H-how do you possibly see through these?”

“My condition makes me not see very well; I am nearly blind.” He squints with my glasses on and laughs. “Your eyesight is almost as bad as mine!” He continues to laugh and I laugh with him. He stops laughing for a bit before he swaps our glasses back. All is calm, and I can hear the rats scurrying around in their cages. He then turns to me, smiling wide. “Will you visit me tomorrow after your duties?”

I nod, scratching the back of my neck. “I w-will, yes, yes. Don’t worry.” He gently smiles, and I walk back to the lift, cranking the motor back. I sigh, looking out to the moving wall. I start to become dizzy, almost like when you read on a train, and I feel the need to puke. I need to rest.


	5. Some Rise By Sin

  1. December 1903, 9:20 am



I open my eyes with a mere caution. When I sit up, my back aches and cracks, perhaps a sign of much-needed rest. I toss the blanket to the side of the bed near the wall. I peer at my pocket watch and see the time. Enough time to see Bayani. I rush to my wardrobe and grab a fresh shirt, quickly buttoning it up, but then I notice a jacket hung up in there as well. Who put this here? It looks similar to Charles’, so maybe it’s mandatory. I grab it and slide it on, a small symbol on the right side, possibly for the Council. Sliding the jacket over my arms, I run out the door and to the lift. 

When I arrive in the laboratory, it’s completely empty, except for Bayani standing over a table, his back facing me. I smile wide and sneak around the maze of tables. He doesn’t move from his station but makes small movements to pick things up and put them down. I hear him mumble a bit and I pick a time to strike. He writes things down in his notebook, not looking up at all. I slither behind him and grab his arm. He yips like a small dog and turns to face me. 

“Oh! Rose!” He laughs quietly. “I was not expecting you. How are you today?” 

“Tired,” I say with a smile. “I awoke and saw what time it was, and well… I thought I should come to visit you before I have to work.” I peer around him to see his station. “What’s going on here?”

He looks at it as well. “Just studying these plants.” He rolls his eyes with a grin. “ _ Booooring _ . I wish Lenore would give me some actual work.” He places the notebook on the table. “But if it helps people, then who truly cares?” He takes me by the arm towards the lift. Once we’re inside, he stands stiff, like a statue of ice. 

“Where are we going?” 

He turns the motor backward. “I was thinking we could go out to eat before you become busy with work. Like… new friends! Lenore always assigns a large amount of work for new members; it is kind of her way of introducing them to the Council’s system, you know?” I nod.

“Yes, I understand. Sounds like a lot of work needs to be done.”

“You can handle it, right?”

“Of course I can.” I stare in front of me. “Cannot be too challenging, right?”

He shrugs. “Lenore is… an interesting person, with interesting ideas. I am not exactly sure what she will assign you to do.” The lift stops on the ground level. A few police officers stand at the entrance, a stern look on their faces. Bayani walks passed them without a worry in the world it seems, yet I quickly run by them, careful to not make eye contact. 

We walk around, without a sense of direction. 

“Why exactly d-did you want to leave so badly?”

“Why, to spend more time with you.”

“M-me?” I squeak out.

“Of course you.” He turns his head to face forward. “Who else?”

“B-but w-why?”

“I wish to understand why as well. Perhaps I am a magnet, but instead of being attracted towards opposites, I simply search for the last few good in the world. Like you.” He flashes a smile like one of a cat.

“You, you think I’m good?”

“I do not think; I  **know** , friend.” He tightens his grip. “Come, come! I know a place we can go!” He drags me over to a small building, and I happily go along. 

We exit the lift, laughing with no care in the world, making some of the guards turn their heads and scoff. Lenore stands at a bookshelf in the back of the room, her back towards us and a book in her hand. She turns around, her glasses on the tip of her pointed nose, and she peers upward to us. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Calland and Mr. Claxton.” She places the large book on the desk near her and brushes off her skirt. “Mr. Calland, you’re needed down in the laboratory.” Bayani nods and leaves my side for the lift. When he closes the gate door, he waves with a smile and descends. “And Mr. Claxton,” She swings her arm around my shoulder and walks us both to the balcony in the front. She motions out to the city below, “Do you see our glorious city?” I nod slowly. “We, as members of the Council, must do everything we can to help and protect the citizens down below us. Even if that means sacrifices from certain groups in the city.”

“W-what d-do you mean?”

She doesn’t break her stare with the city, “A rebellion is stirring up within the Copper community. We need  _ you _ to go and deal with it.”

“B-but why me?”

“They know who  _ we _ are; Abraham, Charles, Arthur, and myself. But you? They don’t even know you exist,” I frown. “I mean that in the best way.” She hands me a small paper with a picture of a woman. “Find her, Flora Lennox, and put an end to her little rebellion. She normally is found near the mills in the northern part of the city based on the information given to us by the guard.”

I stare at her picture, taking in all the details. “She d-doesn’t appear to be a threat-”

“Believe it or not, she has connections with every important citizen in this city, and I will not tolerate failure with this assignment. We cannot afford mistakes here, Mr. Claxton, we have a city to maintain.” Lenore snaps back. I approach the lift and hop inside. “I know you can do it.”

The lift nearly crashes on the ground, causing me an incredible headache. I feel my way for the stairs near the platform, being oh so cautious with each step. When I finally reach the ground, I look around for some sign of mills. I spot a group of Coppers walking towards an alleyway, and an idea springs up within my head. Sneaking past the group, I snatch a large blanket a small child dropped and sling the cloth over my shoulders, making sure it covers the small Council badge on the jacket. I slide a pin through two parts and create a hood, and sliding it over my head, I follow the group to their destination. 

I slowly and carefully approach a large, open area full of Coppers. Some walk on into the giant mills, some simply stay outside, and some seem to be enjoying the area and begin playing with each other. I peer around, for she must be around here. A man walks past me, a flyer in his hands, which he crumples up and throws to the ground. I pick it up, not knowing what to expect. It’s a flyer… for the rebellion, but it’s in… French? Luckily for me, an English translation is written on the back, granted in a worse scripture, but it will have to do. It states:

“ATTENTION ALL OPPRESSED PEOPLE OF THE CITY OF STEAM:

WE, THE PEOPLE, MUST FIGHT FOR OUR FREEDOM; THE RIGHTS THAT WERE STOLEN FROM US BY THE WICKED COUNCIL!

JOIN THE MOVEMENT!” 

A small drawing of the girl stares at me, her fist in the sky and her stance strong. I fold the paper and tuck it into my pocket. I look up and spot the girl from both the flyer and the paper Lenore gave me. She seems to be passing them out, making sure everyone takes one, despite that no one seems to be keeping them, or even reading them for that matter. “ _ Embrassez la liberté! Vivez avec passion! _ ” I… don’t know why, but something about her keeps my mind very busy. Perhaps it’s my… fascination with strong women? Before I can finish my thought, she walks off, carrying a sack over her shoulders, but I  **cannot** let her leave. I attempt to follow her down the many twists and turns of the mill neighborhood. 

Down the alley appears to be a marketplace full of Coppers. Stands have everything from fruit to clothing, with a large variety of not only goods but people buying them as well. People try not to look at me, their eyes narrow and a lot of them turning their backs to me sharply. A few younger boys try to shove past me, but end up just getting pushed back. 

“ _ Savez-vous marcher _ ?” He yells out and his friends behind him chuckle before they run away with a ball. I furrow my eyebrows and continue on my search for Flora, but the crowds of people almost swallow me up like the sea. Oh, Father forgive me. I start to push through the crowd, separating them like Moses, when I spot her in the distance handing out more and more flyers. She tries to return my stares before I duck behind a stand. I wait until she’s gone and I continue to follow her. The people around me shout and shout about me, but I cannot hear, nor understand them, I just keep following, until I meet a dead end and she’s gone. I hear a cough from behind me, and turning ever so slowly I see her, with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

“Care to explain why you’re following me?”

I pause and look around. She raises an eyebrow, her fists clenched. “I-I… wanted to help you with your rebellion!” She pulls my hood down, exposing me for who I am.

“Hm… but you’re one of  _ them _ ,” she mutters to herself. “Actually…” She looks down and taps her foot. Peering up at me, Flora smiles. “Alright, you can help.” Before I can speak, she holds a hand up. “But you must promise me with your soul and heart, that you will not tell the Council about this.” I freeze. “Especially with their new member showing up yesterday, they could be coming to find me.” I cannot move, just stuck with a dumb expression on my face. She furrows her eyebrows at me, possibly studying me. “You won’t tell them, will ya?”

“O-of course n-not!”

“Hm… is stuttering just some… problem you have, or?”

“N-no, s-sorry! I g-get nervous a lot.” I try to move my hands at the very least. “A lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, I believe you.” She mutters something in French and grabs my arm, pulling me off to Lord knows where. “Let’s go somewhere in secret! Council’s little quail could be anywhere.”

With the door opening, I can see the state these people must live in. A room full of Coppers all sleeping in small beds on the ground. An old Copper sits in the middle with the children all gathering around her, their eyes beaming with joy. She slowly looks up to Flora and I and smiles wide. 

“ _ Bonjour, Flora, comment allez- vous _ ?”

“ _ Bonjour, grand- mère Maribelle! Etes- vous ok? Besoin de quelque chose _ ?”

“ _Non_ , _non_. _Je_ _vais_ _bien_.” She makes a circular movement with her hand towards me. “ _Qui est-ce_?”

“ _ Un humain d’aider la rébellion, grand- mère Maribelle _ .  _ Au revoir _ !” She takes me by the arm to a locked room. She shoves me in as she locks the door again. “Ok, ok.”

“I-is there a reason w-why we’re in here?” I can hardly see in the room. Wood covers the surrounding windows, keeping the light from poking its head into the room. A single round table sits in the middle of the room, a humble piece of cloth laying on top of it, with miscellaneous papers in a mess as well. 

“Secrecy is important.”

“B-but… you told Maribelle about it and all the people around-” She throws a stack of papers at me, and luckily I catch a few of them… the rest fall to the floor, but I pick them up before she can turn around. 

“We  _ Cuivre  _ keep every secret within our community.  _ Grand- mère _ Maribelle would never betray me.”

“I-is she your grandmother? Just curious.”

“Of course not,  _ imbécile _ . She’s just a kind old woman who supports the rebellion.”

“W-what does she do for the rebellion?”

She ties her hair back. “She helps with morale and gathering supplies from France. She has many connections there, and she knows how to get through the Council and their slimy members.” I swallow hard. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“ _ Oui _ . What are you going to do for us?”

I shiver. “I’m not exactly sure-”

“No, quiet, I have a job for you. Recruiting.”

“R-recruiting?”

“ _ Oui _ ,  _ oui _ ! You’re ‘normal,’ which means you’ll be able to gather up recruits, because let’s face it, if I were to go out to the Main Plaza, I’d be melted down by everyone who dares to look in my direction.” She turns to the table and sorts through the papers.

“I don’t think I can do this-”

“Look, do you want to help us or not? It’s not a hard task; just go around the city and put up the flyers.”

“That’s it?”  
“ _That’s it_.” She goes back to her sorting. “I don’t need you messing up a big, important task, so you have this little one. Don’t fail me.” 

She shoves me out the door of the common house and slams it. I look through the small pile of flyers in my arms, and to my surprise, they’re all different. Each paper has its own design and phrase at the top, the only similarity being the formatting: Large black words at the top in French, a drawing in the middle, and the words “ _ Cuivre _ Rebellion” at the bottom. Someone should really teach this girl how to better her composition.


	6. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

  1. December 1903, 7:30 pm



The night is deathly cold, with the winds making it  _ far _ worse. I adjust my large winter coat, the sleeves falling off my skinny wrists and the fur on the hood finding its way into my mouth every five seconds. Groaning, I look to the note Bayani gave me before I left. Simple items really, just fruits and vegetables and… food for Alon. Snowflakes begin to fall slowly and I groan even louder, all of this reminding me of the first dreadful day of this city. 

Walking through the still-busy city plazas, I notice a group of Coppers gathering in front of an oil lantern. The woman from before…  _ grand- mère  _ Maribelle, I believe, kneels on the ground with a small woven basket in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out small gifts wrapped in cloth. “Blessed night to you.” Her smile is wide, making her many wrinkles more prominent. Standing up, she adjusts her dress composed of various fabrics and colors. “ _ Salutations à tous _ ! Tonight is very special. We celebrate… our creation and the… beauty of our people. Tonight is a night of wonder and charm!” She bends down and grabs the lantern, holding it up for all to see. “Light your lanterns over your doorways, share the bread and wine to our brothers and sisters, for tonight… We love and cherish each other.” The crowd becomes a tangle of conversations, but one figure catches my attention.

She holds onto Maribelle’s arm, similar to that of a small child and mother. “Maribelle, we should head back to the common house. The children will need to be put to bed.”

“Florianne…  _ Ma vie _ Florianne. You worry… too much. Go, enjoy yourself tonight!” She laughs raspily, patting Flora on the back.

As Maribelle walks off with the other Coppers, Flora turns and notices me. Waving, I stand out like a sore thumb compared with everyone around. “ _ You _ .” She slinks over, looking all around at the crowd. “What are  _ you  _ doing here?”

Looking to the list again, I glance up to her stern face and hands at her hips. “Oh, just buying… groceries for a friend.”

Scoffing, she crosses her arms and leans back. “ _ You _ have friends?” She cackles, but fans her hands at me. Furrowing my eyebrows, I huff and look away. “I kid, I kid! But what are you doing shopping  _ now _ ? It’s nearly midnight!”

“It’s a late night run.” She rolls her eyes, fixing her hair. “But why are  _ you _ here? What’s going on?”

“ _ Nuit du don et de la famille _ .” I cock my eyebrow. “‘Night of Giving and Family.’ It’s a  _ Cuivre _ tradition that on the second to last Sunday in December, we must light our lanterns and give food, water, or shelter to those who knock on our doors.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Hm. Sounds a lot like-”

“ _ Noël _ ?  _ Christmas _ ? Trust me,  _ mon ami _ , it is different. Instead of dedicating a whole day to worship a savior’s birth, we celebrate family and the act of sharing our wealth and fortunes to those who need it.” Pointing to the line of lit lanterns, I can spot a smile across her face, her eyes glimmering like the stars. “It’s such a splendid occasion.”

“It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Why,  _ oui _ ! Of course. Don’t you get all excited about Christmas?” I nod, my glasses falling to the edge of my nose. She takes my arm and pulls me down the path of light. All the lanterns appear as though they were fairies or mythical beings preparing to take me to a better world than this. Although, seeing Flora beaming as bright as the lanterns does put a smile on my face.

At the end of the line of homes, we arrive in an alley with a ladder leading to the rooftops. Flora wanders around aimlessly, like a ghost looking for home. “Ambrose, is it?”

“Yes? And I presume you’re Flora, or F-Florianne?”

She puts her hand up, shaking her head. “I’d prefer if you’d call me Flora. Florianne is a name I don’t want to be associated with anymore.” She slumps down onto a wooden box, hunching over and resting her head on her fists. “Ambrose.” I look over. “Am-Br-Ooose. Am Rose.”

“Enjoying my name?”

“It’s a nice name, who named you?” She cocks her eyebrow, shifting her weight onto one arm.

“I don’t know, perhaps my father? My mother’s name was Rose, so perhaps it’s an homage?”

“Was?” She looks down to the ground. “Oh.” The two of us stay in silence, before Flora whispers, “Hey, follow me.” She points to the ladder and begins to climb it, not looking down.

“You want me to climb  _ that _ ?”

She cackles, glancing at me. “What’s the problem? Is Mr. Ambrose afraid of heights?”

I purse my lips and feel my cheeks blushing. Huffing, I push up my glasses and take the first step on the ladder. The rust on the steel feels… gritty, as well as the cold making my fingers stick to the metal. Oh, Lord in Heaven, this ladder seems to go on forever, my breath becoming hazy and my vision growing cloudy as my hot breath touches my glasses lens. Soon, my troubles are over by the time I reach the rooftop. Flora stands over the edge, her hair flowing in the harsh northern winds. Once I stand beside her, I peer down to see a scenic view of the city and the lanterns. I take a peak at Flora, her eyes focused below us, a small smile on her face and her skin shining in the light. “Blimey. This is… beautiful.” 

“Isn’t it? Despite the wretched state of the city,” She sighs, closing her eyes and sitting down on the concrete rooftop. “Moments like these give me hope.” Patting the ground beside her, she nods to the spot. I sit down, crossing my legs and rolling down my sleeves. She reaches for my coat’s hood, feeling the fur. “What fur is this? Fox? It has the colors of one, or maybe…” As she feels around, she grazes over my neck, sending shivers down my spine. My breath becomes hazy again. “Where did you find this? It must be so warm and nice right now.” Her small body shivers, her coat clearly having faults, such as the many holes in the sleeves and faded colors. I sigh, feeling my coat’s fur for myself. I take my coat off, sliding it over her shoulders. Her eyes shoot open and she flinches before holding the coat tight. “Won’t you be cold? A human such as yourself surely must be cold.”

I scoff, pushing down my hair and fixing my glasses. “Don’t worry, I don’t get cold easily.” I wipe away the mucus that begins to roll down from my nose.

We both lie down on the concrete, staring up to the stars the dance in the sky. “Flora?” She moves her head to face me. “Have you ever… had feelings for someone?”

There’s a pause. “I… yes. Why do you ask?”

“I’m simply trying to make conversation… That's all.”

“I have been in love, but it was far too long ago. He… was a great friend.” Her face is low, and she fiddles with her fingers rapidly.

“Flora? Are you alright?”

She sits up, holding my coat even tighter now, her head held up. “That’s it; I do not wish to speak of him for any longer. But now, I get to ask a question. Have  _ you _ ever been in love?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “ _ Yes _ .” I squeak.

“ _ Ooooo _ ! Tell me, tell me!” She grabs my arm and shakes me a bit. “Come on, Am!”

“Alright, alright!” I chuckle and sit up as well, resting my arms on my knees. The two of us discuss all sorts of topics of conversation, laughing and snorting as the stars move across the sky.

“-And then, once the guardsman had turned his back, BAM! I whack him and pull down his trousers in front of the guard captain!”

“Oh, how embarrassing! Was he alright?”

“Who cares? He had stolen my fliers earlier that day, he deserved it.” She looks to me, a sly smile on her face. “Wanna have some fun?” She asks, making my face turn a light shade of red. “Do you know Shakespeare?”

“Know him? I  _ adore  _ his work!”

“Glad we have something in common then.” She stands up and rummages around in the pocket of her dress. She pulls out a small, worn out book with some of the pages nearly falling out. “Have a favorite?”

I place my fist under my chin, looking up to the sky. “Sonnet eighteen?”

Her eyebrows rise as she flips to a page. “Didn’t think of you as a romantic, Ambrose. Personally, I would’ve gone with sonnet fifteen, much better, less… how you say, sap.” I shrug, closing my eyes. “Here we are. Care to read?” She hands me her book, all the words handwritten and the cover seemingly made from leather.

“You copied these all by  _ hand _ ?”

“I had a lot of free time back then; spent too much of my life at the library.”

“There’s a library here?” I ask, my voice now a higher pitch.

She scoffs, turning away. “Not anymore. Come on, read the little poem.”

I stand up, adjusting my glasses. “‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” She closes her eyes and smiles, holding her sides with her arms. “‘Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd.’ Oh, Lord.” She looks up, furrowed eyebrows. “This  _ is  _ sappy.”

I hand her the book back, and she smiles again. “See? Told you.”

Laughing, I shrug again. “You did tell me.”

She walks over to the other side of the roof, staring out to the bright lights scattered below. “You’re from England,  _ oui _ ?” She turns her head, and I nod. “Why leave that for  _ here _ ? There are far better cities in the world to explore.” Pointing to me, she raises her eyebrows. “Are you an inventor?”

I suddenly remember  _ why _ I’m here; the Council. I begin to sweat as I try to figure out a good enough lie. “I- uh- heard of the city back home. Talk of the town, so to speak.” She narrows her eyes a tad, crossing her arms over her chest. I tuck my shirt into my trousers, my hands shaking. “I used to tinker with… things. My father used to be an inventor, I believe, so I could have carried on the tradition.”

“What do you make? Large locomotions that can turn bodies of water into energy?” I shake my head. “An automated zeppelin that controls itself?” I shake my head again. She looks down, tapping her chin. “A toy?” I smile wide and nod, but that doesn’t seem to impress her. “You’re a  _ toymaker _ ?” Her voice is monotone and unimpressed, and she looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. “That’s… good, I guess, but I was expecting… you know?” She fixes her hair, still staring out to the city. There’s silence, and I walk over to stand beside her. She takes a quick peek before her eyes shift away. “What… kind of toys do you make?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to… create an automated doll.”

“Automated dolls? Huh,” She raises her eyebrows. “I’m sure someone has done that by now.”

I bite the inside of my mouth, feeling a tight pain in my throat. “There’ll be… music. I’m sure no one has done  _ that _ yet.”

“Music? Like a lullaby?”

I nod, cocking my eyebrow and looking up to the stars. “Yes, sort of.” Pushing up my sleeves, I sigh, my glasses falling to the tip of my nose. “There will be a quaint, little tune,” I smile small as I remember the song. “for children to enjoy.”

“That’s… rather noble, Am.” She gently pushes my arm. “Do you think I could get the first one?”

“Of course; as soon as I finish my prototype, you’ll be the first to know.” We both laugh, and I watch as her smile grows larger the more she laughs, which makes my cheeks turn red.

“I think you would-” Bells ring out from far away, causing Flora to spring up, still clutching my coat. “ _ Merde _ ;  _ curfew _ . Am, here,” She tosses me my coat and heads for the ladder, but before she does, she plants two kisses on my cheeks like a Frenchman does. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Meet me at the church…” I stand completely frozen, my hand on my cheek. “Am?”

“O-oh! Yes, yes! Tomorrow! Of course!” She laughs under her breath, sliding down the metal ladder. I sigh, my hand sliding off my rosy cheek. “Oh, Lord, spare me please.” Reaching into my pocket, I feel a piece of paper… Flora’s flyer, now faded. “Give me strength.”

“Do you normally talk to yourself or?” Someone asks right behind me. I turn sharply around, my glasses almost falling off my face. Charles looks me up and down, cocking his eyebrow. “You seriously need a lesson in calming down, kid.”

I back up a bit, shoving the flier back into my pocket. “Charles! What a p-pleasure it is to-”

He puts his hand up, a large scowl on his face. “Don’t get all formal on me, Rose. I’m just here to check in.”

“C-check in?”

“Yeah, it’s been,” He pulls down his sleeve and looks to his watch, raising his eyebrows. “a whole hour since you’ve been gone. Did you get what you came for?” He has a smug expression, putting both his arms behind his back.

I furrow my eyebrows, pulling out the small list from Bayani. “How did you-”

“They don’t call me the quail for nothin’. I’m everywhere, kid.” He steps closer. “In the shadows.” And closer. “Behind the doors.” And close enough that our noses are almost touching. “And right behind you.” There’s tension as he stares right into my eyes. He backs up, cackling like a madman before clapping. “I’m just pullin’ your leg, kid!  _ Mostly _ . Make sure you finish your business, and, um, get down from here. Lenore’ll be waiting.” He walks over to the ladder, but turns to face me before climbing down. “And remember:  **_Don’t_ ** **cross me** , Rose. You’ll regret it.”

He slides down, leaving me on the roof alone again. I sigh, shoving my hands into my pockets and leaning over.


	7. The Devil Can Cite Scripture for His Purpose

  1. December 1903, 10:20 



I hand the last flyer to Lenore, her face all twisted and disgusted. 

“Typical, trying to raise support through… pieces of paper. How desperate are they?”

Charles pulls out a cigar and leans on the wall near the balcony. “What did you expect, Mather?” He inhales smoke and breathes it back out like a dragon. “Damn Coppers can’t afford even the cheapest goods. How could they afford...” He grabs the paper from Lenore and shakes it around, it falling apart almost immediately, “...Decent paper, at the very least.” He puts his cigar out. “If that Lennox Copper can’t even raise enough money for paper, how can she raise an army against us?” He looks at me, right through my soul. “What’d else you get while you were out, Rose?”

I fix my glasses. “W-well, I found out that…” I jolt my eyes away from them, my mouth struggling with my brain to keep shut. “She has a Copper woman on her side by the name  _ grand- mère _ Maribelle, who goes outside the city into France to rally up people for the rebellion!” It all spills out. Flora would kill me. No, no, she  **will** . Lenore smiles small, her eyes narrowing.

“And where does this  _ grand- mère _ Maribelle live?”

I shut my eyes tight. “In the common house in the Terra district!”

“Charles.” He nods and goes to the lift, and goes down. Lenore looks back at me, a gleam in her eyes, something never seen before. “Good job, Mr. Claxton. You’ll be seeing yourself in a higher rank in no time!” She walks off. Once she’s gone I sprint to the lift on the balcony. 

I sprint past the Copper people, shoving some out of my way, and they all swear in French. I run around the corner, my glasses nearly falling off my face and my energy depleting at a rapid rate. “Father God, my heart is filled with chaos and confusion.” I begin, my breath growing more and more labored. Turning a corner, I nearly collapse against a wall. “I feel as if I am… drowning in my circumstances and my heart is filled with… fear and confusion.” Someone stops me from getting to the common house, someone unrecognizable. She wears a blue uniform with several badges on the collar and a cap on her head. 

“Halt, citizen! This area is severely dangerous!” She looks at my jacket, narrowing her eyes like a snake. 

“P-please, miss! I’m p-part of the Council! I d-demand access to the c-common house!” She steps back.

“Sorry, sir!” I run by. “Be careful, sir! There’s a fire nearby!” I hear her calling me. I turn to see a massive fire where the common house is, or rather was. Coppers pour out into the streets, all their faces full of fear and anger. 

“I really need the strength and peace that only You can give. Right now, I choose to rest in You.” I can hear children crying while the fire consumes all they know. Maribelle is nowhere to be seen. I quickly take off my jacket and tie it around my waist. “In Jesus’ Name I pray,  _ Amen _ .” I whisper, furrowing my eyebrows as I stare at the blinding flames. I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

“What… happened?” I turn around to see tears streaming down her face. “ _ Conseil des salauds! Vous allez mourir pour ce que vous avez fait _ !” She sprints towards the soldiers, screaming and yelling incoherently. The soldiers push her back and she falls to the ground, dust flying around her. One of them walks forward, his gun in hand and a look of pure happiness and contentment on his face. 

“Everyone get out of here! This area is under the control of the High Council!”

Flora stands up, her fists clenching up as she walks forward. “You… bastards… took her away from me!” She tries to run up to them, but I grab her arm and pull her away. “You won’t get away with this! I’ll tell every  _ Cuivre  _ in the city about what you’ve done! I’ll… I’ll tell all of France! England! Germany! You won’t hide your crimes any longer! I’ll kill you all for what you’ve done!” As I attempt to pull her away, little fires shoot out from the main flame, going in all directions, including towards me. The flame strikes my arm, causing me to flinch and fall over on the ground. While several guards attempt to come towards me, Flora stands in front of them, hands in fists and steam practically coming from her ears. They take more steps closer, causing Flora to pick up a stick and start swinging. “Get away from him or I’ll brake  _ every _ bone in your damned body!” She screeches, gripping the stick so tight, her hands begin to shake and her veins become clear. My eyes go wide and I place my hand to my cheek, feeling a great deal of heat there. The guards back up, which is my cue to take Flora away from all this. I take her arm and gently pull her away, and she doesn’t fight back. The guards all retreat back to the burning building, watching as the fire roars.

As we walk through the streets of the ash ridden sky of the city, I notice the limp in her step. “Are you ok?” She doesn’t react, continuing to limp behind me. Looking at her boots, I see the scratches on the front, scraping the paint off and leaving a trail of it behind. “I’m sorry…about the fire.”

She scoffs, raising her head a bit for me to see her tear stained face. “What are  _ you  _ sorry for? It wasn’t your home and… caregiver set up in flames.”

“I know, but I… I want you to know that I’m here for you. Always.” Her face gleams a bit, but the light is quickly hidden when we walk through the shadows of the edge of the slums, to which she lowers her head again. I stare up at the floating platforms and scaffolding, longing for time to go back to that one night. I stop in my tracks, causing Flora to turn around. Moving a bit closer, I reach out to her. “Do… you want to talk about it?”

She slightly opens her mouth, but no words come out. Tears begin to pour out from her eyes, and she begins to hyperventilate as her crying turns to sobbing. Collapsing on the ground, she continues to sob, gripping her head tight. I try to move closer, but she rams her fist on the ground. She starts to scream as she relentlessly throws her fist onto the cobblestone, her hair falling out over her shoulders. After she slams her fist again, I hear a crack and move closer again, but she continues. Her screaming slowly stops, and she slams her head onto the ground multiple times, a blue liquid slowly trickling down her forehead. I quickly get on the ground and pull her head up, examining the bruise slowly forming as she continues to sob. I look around and find a piece of cloth around her waist. Untying it, I wrap it around the forming bruise, tying it at a comfortable tightness. She stares at her hand, shaking violently. I look to the wound; the finger is swelling and slightly misaligned, and I look around for a splint. Remembering the pen in my pocket, I take it out and hold it right next to the finger, taking another one of the pieces of cloth and wrapping it around the finer and splint.

“We need to get you to the hospital-”

“ **No** .” She answers hoarsely, her eyes fixated on her finger. “I’m… not going to the… hospital.”

I help her stand, supporting her body under my arm. “B- but your finger-”

Snatching her arm away from me, she walks off, avoiding eye contact. “Just… leave me alone.” Flora, with quiet sobs, rounds the corner and disappears from my sight. I sigh, scraping at the skin next to my nail and standing alone in the alleyway as snow begins to drift down.

“What do you mean you ‘won’t do it anymore’?” Lenore asks, pacing back and forth with her arms behind her back. Her office feels cold with the dark green curtains drawn almost completely. She pinches her nose bridge and sighs harshly. “You cannot be serious; tell me you’re not serious.” I quietly huff and cross my arms, looking at the floor. Groaning, she turns around to face the curtains. “That Copper got into your head, and now you’ve gone soft. She already has gotten a grip on you, and…” Turning around, she notices the slight blushing on my face, and she grabs my cheeks tight and stares at me right in the eyes. “And you’ve fallen for her.”

“W-what?” I try to escape her grasp, but my efforts make her tighten her grip.

“Don’t think you’re  _ subtle _ , Mr. Claxton. I know how a man looks when he’s in love.” She throws my head back as she releases me. “A revolting thing, really; the way a man cowers in front of women like a  **_disgusting_ ** bug, why, it makes me want to  **_squash_ ** them until they are  _ nothing _ beneath my shoes.” She scoffs, looking over to the large painting covered by curtains. “But to answer your request, no; you will continue to investigate her, get as much information as you can receive on that  _ wench _ . I don’t wish to hear your whining, so out you go.” She sharply walks back over to the balcony, pushing open the curtains and stands outside. Baffled, I exit the room, closing the door softly.

I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, my glasses laying beside me. My head pounds and pounds like a prisoner trapped in his cell. Tears stain my cheeks and my nose is full of saddened mucus… maybe that’s too much. Two knocks sound on my door, making me jump. “Who is it?”

A gentle voice greets me. “Bayani.”

“Come in.” He opens the door slowly and stands in the doorway, his expression like a sad puppy. 

“Are you ok?” He asks as he closes the door. “I heard about… the common house.” I shake my head and he sits beside it, twisting his neck to look at me. Tears stream down my face like a waterfall over a cliff. 

“I don’t know what to do, Bayani.”

“About the rebellion?”

“About  _ everything _ !” I accidentally kick my glasses off the blanket, and they fall to the floor with a small crash. Bayani moves over to pick them up and places them on the nightstand nearby. “What will Flora do if I tell her I’m with the Council? I don’t want her to hate me, but I fear she might… I don’t know, not like me? What will she say when I tell her the truth? ‘Oh it’s ok that you were working against me this entire time, and you were the cause of the fire in the common house, and the reason that the only person who supported the rebellion is dead! I forgive you!’” I try to mimic her accent to the best of my ability, which isn’t so great. Bayani looks off to the window, but I can tell he’s listening by the repetitive tapping of his finger on his side. “I don’t want her to hate me! This is  **_all_ ** my  **fault** !” I hack and cough, my throat sore. More tears stream down my face as I groan and sob. “I cannot keep doing this… Bayani,” He looks over to me. “ _ You _ won’t leave, right?”

He smiles. “I am not leaving. You have my word.” He pats my head with the force of a feather on a pillow. Bayani stares straight ahead, his expression low and cold. 

“Are  _ you _ ok?”

He shakes his head. I sit up, fiddling with my hands. “Do not worry about me; it is nothing. Here,” He stands and holds the palms of his hands out to me, walking out of the room and into another. Tip-toeing back in, he holds out a small potted plant towards me.

“A…” I wipe my nose with my sleeve. “Plant?” I mutter, looking to the floor. 

“His name is Homobono. He is a Chinese evergreen.” Taking the plant into my hands, I can feel my sadness start to deplete. The room feels awfully cold, as if frost has found its way into the room and burrowed its way into the walls. “It is not much, but he makes  _ me _ feel better.”

“T-thank… you, Bayani. I love him… already.” I say, setting the plant on the nightstand next to the bed. He smiles and sits beside me. There’s a good chunk of silence between the two of us, as I look off to the wall with my head resting on my hands and his eyes staring at the plant. Quiet mumbles come from down the hall along with laughter, possibly Charles or Lenore. “Don’t… you want to be with the others?”

“No.” He turns his head back to the wall. “I would rather stay here… until you feel better.” He adjusts himself, pushing his sleeves down to his wrist. “Besides, the lab was becoming quite boring. I have done the same tests over and over again.” Groaning, he runs his fingers through his hair. “I feel… bad for the rats, their poor fur…”

“Oh no. What happened?”

Sighing, he takes his glasses off, placing them on the bed sheets. “Hydrogen peroxide and hydrochloric acid.”

“Hydrogen… peroxide?” I reach over and grab my glasses, putting them on my face. “That sounds… bad.” 

Sighing, he puts his face into his hands. “It is  **more** than bad, Rose.” 

“Oh.” I adjust myself, thinking of a different subject to talk about. Quietly, I tell him, “I, uh, like your sweater vest.” A small smile appears on my face.

He mumbles, “Thank you. I think your shirt is a lovely color.” I tug my shirt out a bit, examining the light-yellow color of it. Snow begins to fall outside, its elegant and sharp beauty is hypnotizing. “Do you ever wonder about the snow? It is able to tempt you to touch it like a cane toad, but once you do, it is all… downhill.”

“I… oh.” I watch the children outside play with the snow, some even building small snowmen with top hats and scarves.

“What a beautiful thing snow is.” Looking up, he puts his hand under his chin. “I do not think I have seen snow until… a decade ago.”

“Really? I t-thought the Philippines were, you know, t-tropical.” He freezes, almost like the icicles forming outside the window. “Bayani?” I notice small drops of blood dripping out from his nose, and I spring up. “ _ Bayani _ ?” I call out, my voice shaking. Running around the room, I spot a piece of cloth on the window sill. I snatch it and try to hand it to him. I shake him, not too hard, but enough to wake anyone up.

Almost as if I snapped him out of a trance, he blinks rapidly, squinting hard at me. He takes the cloth and applies it to his nostril, leaning forward. He sits there, silent, making absolutely no noise. “I apologize.” He says, still leaning forward.

“What… just happened?”

“ **Nothing** .” His tone is surprisingly harsh, with his answer sounding as though he’s scolding me for asking. “The air is dry here. My nose… it is easily irritated. That is  **all** .” Sitting back up, he folds the cloth into several squares. There’s still a bit of dry blood, and I think about mentioning it to him, but I don’t think now’s the time. “The girl… Flora?” I nod. “She will not hate you.”

Then I remember why I was upset. “A-are you sure?” I ask, my voice cracking.

He nods, and I see that cat-like smile on his face, which makes me relax again. “Flora… from what I have heard, does not dwell. In time, she should forgive you.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“I am sure.” He stands up, and ruffles my hair as if I’m a small cat. “I know of Flora, she is a kind soul. Do not worry, my friend.” When he opens the door, he looks back to me, still smiling. “I will see you soon, yes?” I nod, and he leaves. I fall back onto the bed, screaming internally for these wretched thoughts to disappear. 


End file.
